


The Ballad of Adam Pierson.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Author's Favorite, Community: contrelamontre, POV Second Person, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-14
Updated: 2008-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What we talk about when we talk about moving on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Adam Pierson.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the contrelamontre forty-minute fetish challenge.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> Podfic by [](http://tinypinkmouse.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**tinypinkmouse**](http://tinypinkmouse.dreamwidth.org/) is [available here](http://amplificathon.livejournal.com/1047581.html). :D

When you talk about cadence, you talk about breathing.

Duncan's musical friends come over and they toss around words and terms like masters of the craft of self-importance. Staccato. Legato. Portato. Adagio.

You are there, drinking wine, acting smart, and not talking, because Duncan is talking about sonatas and you are thinking about Kronos's ring finger pressing into your adam's apple. Claudia likes staccato. She likes quick short beats and rhythms that make her fingers feel like they're dancing across the keys. She likes ownership of her music.

When you talk about cadence, you talk about dying.

Duncan talks about fights like he has never experienced rage. He talks about sparks flying and blades hitting and he talks about bodies falling and he talks about heads rolling and he talks about dying and he talks about living and then he talks about nothing at all because you are trying to resist the urge to strangle him and perhaps you kiss him and perhaps you kill him but the one thing you do is make him stop talking.

Joe talks about fights like he talks about combat training, but when you talk about fights, you talk about addiction. You talk about loving it.

Loving all of it. Loving every minute of it.

You talk about fights like you talk about masturbating. It's about rhythm and speed and finding that point where it all starts working wonderfully, and then it feels so good, and then it's over and you just want to do it all over again.

And when you talk about dying, you talk about dreaming.

Kronos would talk about bulls when he talked about killing you. He would bring out words like castration. He would test them on his tongue. He would smile like a philosopher. He would make love to every syllable and he would wrap his hands around your neck and when you revived, he would talk about perfection.

When you talk about Kronos, you talk about regret.

There are days when MacLeod is not himself and he looks at you and you go to your knees before him and he fists one hand in hair that is no longer there and with the other he tips your chin up and you keep your eyes lowered like you never would have before, but the eyes are never the way they should be, for all your hoping, and when MacLeod lowers you to the floor, there is no pretending here.

You count your breaths like he counts his strokes and when you come it is with no pleasure at all.

And you wait, counting heart beats, waiting for the end. His arms around you, never quite right, never quite pressing down hard enough, never quite good enough, and you wait for the end that never, ever comes. Because when Duncan talks about cadence, he talks about music.

And when you talk about addictions, you talk about Quickenings.

When Joe opens a new page and waits, pen posed, and you start talking and you know he will take everything down, with an open mind and a closed heart, ready to hear the worst of what you have done and never judge you, because he judged you a long time ago and found you wanting, that is when you begin to lie.

When you talk about death, you talk about perfection.

You talk about that single, perfect kill.

You talk about that single, perfect raid.

The one that made Kronos laugh and Caspian smile and Silas embrace you.

You talk about beheadings under the moonlight.

Eviscerations by candlelight.

Fires and screams and brotherhood.

That one perfect moment, repeated a hundred times across millennia.

When you talk about Mozart, you are talking about a strong horse beneath you, its hooves hitting the ground like the most perfect drum beat and your Kronos alongside you, laughing, and you feel the blood rise up in you again and you take another gulp of the wine and try not to close your eyes and see the fires burning once more. When you talk about Chopin, you are talking about Kronos and the way he would fuck you in your tent late into the night with his forearm against your shoulders and the way he would make you scream before he would give you what you wanted. And when you talk about rhythms, you talk about death.

Clean, simple, and beautiful.

When Duncan talks about sonatas, you are three thousand years away, adrift in your memories, imagining a peaceful, pleasurable death. When Duncan talks about operettas, you are standing on a dune in a land that no longer exists, time out of memory, with Kronos's arm around your waist, your head dipped back against his shoulder, and a sandstorm raging around you. When Duncan talks about minuets, you feel the ground slip away and you fall into your brother and you die together and are reborn as one.

And when you talk about living, you are talking about nothing at all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Ballad of Adam Pierson [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/313774) by [tinypinkmouse_podfic (tinypinkmouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse_podfic)




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